The girl looked up.  The suggestion was bold, bad, and momentarily attractive.  But she only said “No,” apparently from habit, picked up her doll, and the boy clambered to the front of the wagon.  The incomplete episode terminated at once with that perfect forgetfulness, indifference, and irresponsibility common to all young animals.  If either could have flown away or bounded off finally at that moment, they would have done so with no more concern for preliminary detail than a bird or squirrel.  The wagon rolled steadily on.  The boy could see that one of the teamsters had climbed up on the tail-board of the preceding vehicle.  The other seemed to be walking in a dusty sleep.

“Kla’uns,” said the girl.

The boy, without turning his head, responded, “Susy.”

“Wot are you going to be?” said the girl.

“Goin’ to be?” repeated Clarence.

“When you is growed,” explained Susy.

Clarence hesitated.  His settled determination had been to become a pirate, merciless yet discriminating.  But reading in a bethumbed “Guide to the Plains” that morning of Fort Lamarie and Kit Carson, he had decided upon the career of a “scout,” as being more accessible and requiring less water.  Yet, out of compassion for Susy’s possible ignorance, he said neither, and responded with the American boy’s modest conventionality, “President.”  It was safe, required no embarrassing description, and had been approved by benevolent old gentlemen with their hands on his head.

“I’m goin’ to be a parson’s wife,” said Susy, “and keep hens, and have things giv’ to me.  Baby clothes, and apples, and apple sass—­and melasses! and more baby clothes! and pork when you kill.”

She had thrown herself at the bottom of the wagon, with her back towards him and her doll in her lap.  He could see the curve of her curly head, and beyond, her bare dimpled knees, which were raised, and over which she was trying to fold the hem of her brief skirt.

“I wouldn’t be a President’s wife,” she said presently.

“You couldn’t!”

“Could if I wanted to!”

“Couldn’t!”

“Could now!”

“Couldn’t!”

“Why?”

Finding it difficult to explain his convictions of her ineligibility, Clarence thought it equally crushing not to give any.  There was a long silence.  It was very hot and dusty.  The wagon scarcely seemed to move.  Clarence gazed at the vignette of the track behind them formed by the hood of the rear.  Presently he rose and walked past her to the tail-board.  “Goin’ to get down,” he said, putting his legs over.

“Maw says ‘No,’” said Susy.

Clarence did not reply, but dropped to the ground beside the slowly turning wheels.  Without quickening his pace he could easily keep his hand on the tail-board.

“Kla’uns.”

He looked up.

“Take me.”